For an Ephemeral Eternity
by lunarshores
Summary: A collection of drabbles featuring Thatch/Izo. First chapter: Met Online AU. Second chapter: awkward bed bunk Set as complete but will be updated on occasion.
1. Chapter 1

**Yet another drabble collection, this time focused on Thatch/Izo. It is set as complete but will be updated as I get more prompts on tumblr or ideas. The first one is for MyLadyDay, which seems only fitting, since she got me into the pairing to begin with XD The prompt was from the new meme and was met online au. Hope you enjoy!**

Thatch watched as the city come into view below the plane. He couldn't believe it was finally time. He laughed quietly to himself earning yet another weird look from his seatmate. Thatch ignored her, too nervous to be bothered with her. It was silly, really. He had nothing to be nervous about. They'd been friends for years, after all.

Thatch smiled, remembering how they met. It was hard to believe that one wrong click and simple message led to the closest relationship he had. He'd been scrolling through Tumblr three years ago when he'd accidentally clicked on one of those annoying recommended blogs. It had been some sort of sewing blog or something, not related to anything he'd ever looked at of course, and he had been about to close it when a picture had caught his eyes.

The powder blue evening gown had a wide v-neckline, the straps hugging the upper arms. Crystal beads and silver thread lined the neckline in intricate floral embroidery. The bodice was simple, separated from the full, ankle-length skirt by a simple band of fabric, and even Thatch could tell it was gorgeous. But what it was the person wearing the dress that had held his attention.

He looked to be maybe a year or two younger than Thatch. His black hair had been pinned up in loose curls, and he'd worn light makeup of some sort. The dress had showed off his collarbones and lithe figure perfectly. He had obviously taken the picture himself, standing in front of a full-length mirror, and it had been easy to tell he was nervous about it, biting lightly on his bottom lip.

He had been simply breathtaking. Izo had asked him what it was about that dress or that picture that had made him stop and read the comments, instead of just closing it like he'd intended, but Thatch had never been able to describe it, despite being pestered about it repeatedly.

Scrolling through the replies, Thatch had been shocked by how cruel people were being. So what if he were a boy? He clearly could sew and that was what the blog was about. Several of the rudest had been the same people who'd asked to see him in one of his creations.

Before he'd consciously thought to send him a reply, he'd already started typing.

**Don't let anyone stand in the way of doing what you love. You look beautiful.**

As soon as he'd hit send, Thatch had instantly regretted it. He had been sure the boy would just be creeped out since he didn't know Thatch or laugh hysterically at the cheesy response. Since he couldn't delete it, Thatch had just signed out and closed his laptop, like that could somehow spare him the embarrassment.

When he'd next logged in, he'd had a message waiting for him. It had been polite and had just thanked him for his support, which, little did he know at the time, had meant so much to Izo in the face of the criticism he'd been sent. Thatch would never understand how they'd gone from those simple, impersonal messages to being each other's closest confidant, but by the time Izo had deleted his blog, a week or so after he'd posted his picture, they'd already exchanged skype names and emails and talked almost everyday.

It was so nice to be able to talk to someone who _didn't_ understand, who was so far removed from the issue at hand to be somehow both objective and staunchly supportive. At least, that was how Thatch felt and he assumed Izo felt similarly or their friendship would have died out long ago.

They lived much too far apart to see each other easily, and neither of them had the money to travel across the country to visit a friend. Neither had parents that would be supportive of talking to some "random" person online, which made it all the more difficult. So in the three years they'd known each other, they'd never once met.

Thatch fidgeted in his seat, as the plane began his descent. He couldn't believe he was finally going to meet Izo. It had been the plan for years now, but now that he'd finally graduated high school, it all seemed surreal. They'd long ago plotted that Thatch could apply to culinary school, when he graduated high school, in New York, where Izo lived. He'd been saving up money for this since he was old enough to work, but Thatch still couldn't believe it was actually happening.

He was worried about the adjustment from rural Nebraska, sure, but mostly what caused his nervousness was Izo. What if their friendship could only survive with distance? What would he do if Izo hated him? What would he do if he found out?

The plane landed roughly, jarring Thatch out of his thoughts. He shuffled off with the other passengers, ignoring the finally dirty glare from the woman who had sat next to him. Thatch headed to the baggage claim, where Izo would hopefully be awaiting him, with anxiety and excitement writhing through him.

Thatch caught sight of Izo, who was standing right outside the exit in a crowd full of people, and stopped dead, gapping. He hadn't noticed Thatch yet and was still scanning the crowd of people leaving the terminals, completely oblivious to the stares his outfit was garnering.

He wore a classic-style land girl dress, which was black with white polka dots, with red strappy stilettos. He had on a simple black wide-brimmed hat, trimmed with a red ribbon, over his carefully pinned up hair and wore lipstick in a matching shade.

The outfit didn't shock Thatch; he had seen it before the first time the video chatted more than two years ago, and he'd mentioned once that it was one of his favorites that Izo had made. What left him gaping like an idiot was that Izo was wearing it in public. Not once since Izo had posted that picture had anyone but Thatch seen any of his creations on him, despite his encouragements.

Not only was he dressed up, but he also didn't seem the least bit phased at the stares of the other people. Thatch felt his heart clench, when he thought that he had something to do with Izo's apparent confidence. Izo had faced the potential mockery that he'd avoided for so long in order to wear Thatch's favorite dress to pick him up at the airport.

Izo finally caught sight of him, smiling widely and waving. He continued past the barrier towards Izo, rushing now that he had recovered from his shock. Izo met him at the edge and threw himself at Thatch, hugging him tightly. Thatch caught him, stumbling only a little at the impact, and returned the hug, feeling his earlier doubts melt away completely.

He pulled back slightly and smiled at Izo. "You look beautiful."

**Thank you for reading! Reviews are always appreciated ^^**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is for MyLadyDay, who asked for awkward bunk bed sex XD I hope you enjoy, senpai ^^**

Thatch stretched, cracking his neck as he walked back to the room he shared with Marco. He was in charge of the kitchens at the Moby Dick Summer Camp, and thus was almost always the last of his brothers to go to bed. That night the dishes had taken him even longer than usual, so all he wanted was to climb into bed and sleep.

He opened his door as quietly as possible, knowing Marco would already be asleep by now, and crept into the room. Thatch was used to coming back after Marco was asleep and moved in the dark room with the ease of practice. He quickly stripped to his boxers, tossing his clothes vaguely in the direction of his hamper and climbed the ladder to the top bunk, trying to move the bed a little as possible so he wouldn't bother Marco sleeping below.

As he crawled awkwardly over his pillows, the bed rustled, and Thatch could see the vague silhouette of a face from the red glow of the alarm clock. A hand reached out and prevented him from tumbling backwards, and another muffled his rather embarrassing squeal. He smacked his head on the wall as he reared back in surprise.

"Shut up or you'll wake up Marco." a familiar voice whispered, "It's just me." Thatch relaxed, and Izo moved his hand from Thatch's mouth to his shoulder urging him to lay down and tossing the blanket over both of them.

"Izo, what the hell are you doing here?" Thatch didn't need to be able to see to know Izo was pouting, as he automatically pulled Izo closer.

"I missed you, of course. It's already been a week since camp started. It's not fair that we have to be separated. Why would the kids care?" He slid his hands down Thatch's bare chest playfully to the waistband of his boxers. "Let's see how much you missed me."

"But Marco is-" His weak protest was cut off just as quickly as his surprise earlier, though this time Izo used a somewhat different method to keep him quiet. Thatch stifled a moan as Izo slipped his tongue in his mouth, coaxing him to forget any objection he might have had. He tried to roll them so he would be on top of Izo, almost sending them both toppling off the narrow bed. They barely caught themselves in time from falling to the floor.

Izo snickered quietly, then sat up so he could take off his shirt off more was Thatch's turn to muffle his laughter when, in the process, Izo whacked his elbow on the ceiling.

"Dammit, I hit the nerve!" He muttered, smacking Thatch for his lack of sympathy. They had almost managed to change positions, when Thatch felt the discarded shirt sliding off the bed. From previous experience, he knew it had a good chance of landing on Marco's face and lunged after it, nearly toppling off the bed one again.

Luckily, he snagged the mischievous garment before it could wake his roommate, and Izo somehow managed to keep him on the bed. Still trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, Izo buried his face into the bed. Though he couldn't make out the details, Thatch smiled tenderly at his normally composed lover's loss of control.

He cupped his cheek gently turn Izo to face him, and pressed his lips against his forehead lightly. "I love you." He slowly kissed a meandering path towards Izo's lips, but Izo stopped him before he reached his goal.

"I love you too," Izo paused, as if considering, "even though you're an idiot." He pulled him back in, kissing him leisurely. Thatch returned Izo's advances eagerly, feeling him melt as he took charge of the kiss, sucking his lower lip and biting down teasingly ran his hands across Izo's nipples lightly, causing Izo to shudder beneath him and arch his back, pressing into the caress. When they broke for air, Thatch kissed down his neck, making Izo gasp as his grazed his teeth lightly over his collarbone.

Suddenly, the overhead light turned on, and they froze, horrified, as they turned to see a livid Marco glaring up at them from the door.

**Reviews are always appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Again for MyLadyDay XD Fluffy Thatch painting Izo. Hope you enjoy ^^**

"So you just want me to sit here?" Izo asked, "Do you need me to change?"

Thatch automatically looked over at him, though it didn't really matter to him what Izo wore. Not that Thatch minded looking over the light skinny jeans, rolled to the ankles, and loose, deep purple sweater he had on. Though he was about to spend the next several hours with every reason to stare at him, it was an ingrained habit to take every chance he got by now.

"No, that's fine. Just try not to move that much." Izo settled comfortably in the chair, Thatch had pointed him to earlier, as Thatch finished setting up everything he would need. "Thanks for doing this for me."

Izo smiled at him warmly. "I had nothing else to do, so posing for awhile won't do any harm. Besides you said you needed to practice painting people for class, and everyone else has other things they need to do today."

Thatch flashed him a grateful smile, feeling only slightly guilty about planning "his assignment" so the rest of their brothers and Pops were either out or busy with schoolwork.

Quiet fell over them as Thatch started the first sketch, patiently ignoring Izo's fidgeting. He'd barely started when the family cat, who had been peacefully snoozing in a patch of sunlight, decided it was obviously his duty as a cat to interrupt whatever they were doing and put the focus more properly on him. He leapt straight into Izo's lap, meowing loudly and rubbing against Izo's hand.

"Buchi! I'm sorry, Thatch, I'll-" Izo was already instinctively petting him, as Buchi kneaded his lap in preparation for using him as a human couch.

"No, that's okay," Thatch said, thinking that if Buchi settled down, Izo might relax a bit. He nodded to himself as a loud, rumbling purr started up. Buchi's black and white splotches contrasted nicely with what Izo was wearing, and not only had Izo relaxed, but the tender expression on his face as he gently pet their fat cat made Thatch's heart clench.

Thatch stared at the scene, pencil momentarily forgotten, mesmerized as Izo smiled down at Buchi, now curled up completely and dead to the world apart from his constant purring. The light glinted off of his inky black hair, for once loose around his shoulders, one lock hanging in front of his face as he bent slightly over the cat. But what held his attention most was the joyful, soft expression in his eyes and the loving smile Izo directed at the cat as he delicately rubbed Buchi's ears, forgetting he wasn't supposed to move.

Thatch had barely managed to shake himself out of it, when the remnants of the smile were directed at him and he froze once more, staring into Izo's dark eyes.

"He can stay?" Thatch could only nod dumbly as Izo's smile grew, and he returned his attention to the cat. Thatch started sketching once more, determined to capture that glorious expression. He was sure this would be his best work yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**For the wonderful myladyday, who of course prompted this one as well. Congratulations on passing your exam!**

Izo looked around the restaurant that was his latest job in horror. Surely this was some sort of joke. His assistant had told him that it was one of the most celebrated up-and-coming chef's first restaurant in this city, but there was no way.

It was hard to even know where to begin to look. The colors clashed abominably, the multitude of bright hues each vying for being the most eye popping in a cacophony of confusion. To add to already tumultuous design, a bewildering variety of chairs and tables were scattered around the room with no thought at all given to traffic flow or aesthetic appeal. Not a single chair in the place matched as far as Izo could tell from the door, and the tables were not even all the same height.

Izo cringed from the hideous sight in front of him and gave serious thought to leaving. He must have been given the wrong address. There was no other explanation. He really should just go and just forget that this insult to humanity existed. It would be like a nightmare and soon forgotten.

Just as he was about to sneak back out and dismiss the smirch on honor of designers everywhere permanently from his mind, a jovial voice called out to him from the direction of the kitchen and a tall man came running out to greet him, neatly dodging the protrusions of tables. He cursed his missed opportunity to flee and remained grudgingly by the door, refusing to move further inside.

Izo had to admit that the man had a certain appeal to him, even though the poor excuse of a room detracted from his looks as it would anyone. Izo glanced ruefully at his royal purple button down. Today would have been a good day to wear all neutrals. As it was, the only oases from the barrage of color was the white chef's uniform that the man racing delightedly toward him was wearing and his own black slacks.

"I'm so glad you could make it! You must be Izo, right? I'm Thatch, the head chef here." Izo's eyes were instantly drawn to Thatch's unusual hairstyle and mentally groaned. This was clearly the person who abused this poor room. "For some reason my banker told me that I had to call you in before opening. All I need is for you to sign off that this place is well done" He looked proudly around the room and waved a hand dismissively. "But that won't be a problem, obviously."

It had taken one month to finish the project. One month of constant arguing and cajoling with Thatch over every last detail. One month of fighting tooth and nail for two, _and onlytwo, _accent colors. It was easily the most aggravating month of Izo's life. Since it was a big project on a fairly tight schedule, he'd worked for almost solely on this project during that time with the tasteless, brainless idiot, who thought he knew everything, when he clearly did not.

Today was the day before opening. Izo could not believe his two months of torture was finally over. He was justing waiting for Thatch and his financial backer to arrive and then he'd never have to see either the idiot or the restaurant again. He felt a brief pang at the thought as he unlocked the restaurant with his key for the last time, but brushed it off. Sure, the restaurant was some of his best work, but there would be other projects. Perhaps they wouldn't be as challenging, but it would do him some good to have some easy projects after this one.

The walk through went smoothly when Thatch and the portly man financing his restaurant came in. It was now a harmonious haven where the decor was faultless and the focus could all be on the fabulous food. Izo knew for certain the food was fabulous, since Thatch had cooked for him numerous times during their month together, even without the day he'd tried all of the opening dishes in order to get a feel for the restaurant.

Izo was inordinately proud that Thatch was as happy with the new design as he was. It was his restaurant after all, and it took a lot of effort to get it to meet Thatch;s bizarre tastes without it sending all of the future customers running for the hills.

The backer was equally delighted with the work and signed Izo's check, before rushing off on other business, leaving the two of them alone in the restaurant.

"So... I guess this is goodbye" Izo said, taking the key to restaurant off of his key ring, He ignored the pang he got at the finality of it all."Here's your key."

"Oh, right. Thanks." Thatch took it and shifted from side to side. "I..." He trailed off, avoiding Izo's gaze. "Do you want to have dinner sometime? With me, I mean? Obviously, you'll eat dinner sometime regardless. You should come here. Tomorrow. I mean not as the other dinner, but just because you-" Izo stopped the flood of words by pressing a finger gently to his lips, smiling at the bumbling idiot.

"I'd like that."

**The prompt was: Izo is an interior decorator hired to design prissy Thatch's restaurant. Thatch doesn't really seem prissy, when I read it now... whoops XD Hope you enjoyed it anyway ^^**


	5. Chapter 5

**This one is for phoenix0725 from the drabble meme. She got previous partner cheated on them. Hope you enjoy! Good luck with school this week.**

It had started more than a month ago. Izo had been tired of moping for some loser who would dare cheat on him. Or rather for his pride, since he really couldn't have cared less about what's-his-name by that point. So after getting revenge and allowing himself a brief mourning period, Izo had been all prepared to have some fun. He'd really needed to cheer himself up.

So he'd dragged Marco out with him, which of course meant Ace had to come along as well. Not that Izo minded his new brother going out with them. It was much more pleasant to have someone along who was actually enthusiastic about being there. Still, though they in no way made him feel like the third wheel, they exuded an air of love and contentment that, even though he was ecstatic Marco had finally found someone (with no small amount of help from him, of course), was a bit too much at times, at least for right now. So when Ace had suggested they meet a friend of his as well, he'd jumped on the chance for more company.

As soon as Thatch had shown up at the club they had chosen, Izo had been sure Ace had been trying his own hand at matchmaking. Only he just as obviously needed lessons if this was his best attempt. Izo had to begrudgingly admit that Thatch might be considered attractive by some, in a certain light, but he was clearly an idiot. Besides that night had been just for some fun; he certainly hadn't wanted to look for someone else.

So when Thatch had asked him out, Izo had of course said no. Because Thatch was an utter dunderhead, of course, not in the least because he had been skittish of trusting someone again as Marco had foolishly suggested to him when he'd told him about the encounter. Thatch had taken his rejection quite well (or at least he'd thought so at the time), not even questioning his reasons, though Izo had been sure he'd know about his previous relationship by now. Izo told himself that was good because it was guaranteed they'd see each other again, since he was friends with Ace, firmly ignoring the twinge he'd felt at the easy acceptance when he'd said no.

It quickly had become apparent that Thatch in no way had given up, however. He had started turning up every time Izo went out with Marco, each time asking Izo out once more. Not once had he ever argued with his answer or try and persuade him otherwise, instead continuing right on jabbering with Ace, teasing Marco, and sending occasional flirtation comments towards Izo.

It had been more than a month, and Izo had had enough. So this morning, he'd marched over to the restaurant where Thatch worked, barged right back into the kitchen, ignoring the protests by the waiters and other chefs, and walked straight up to Thatch, enjoying the shock on everyone's faces.

"Why do you keep asking me out? You know I'll just say no, so why keep doing it? Is this a game to you?" Izo demanded. Thatch grinned at him and flipped the pancakes on the griddle in front of him expertly.

"Should I take this as a good sign that you came all the way down here to ask me that?" Izo scoffed, and Thatch laughed.

"Of course not! Now answer the question." Izo glared at him, and Thatch sobered immediately, staring at him intently though his hands never slowed in their preparations.

"Okay. I keep asking because you're a beautiful person, both inside and out, and if at some point you're ready to get into a relationship again after what that asshole did to you, I'd love it if you give me a chance." Thatch smiled sheepishly. "That sounded less cheesy in my head." Izo gaped at him as their audience murmured distantly in the background.

"You really are an idiot." Thatch chuckled again.

"Probably, I am," Thatch said, and for the first time, Izo thought he saw a shadow marring Thatch's cheerful expression. "So, anyway, before you go, will you go out with me for dinner sometime?" Their audience started calling out for Izo to say yes. Izo glared them all into silence.

"No." Izo watched carefully, as Thatch lowered his his, apparently absorbed in the food he'd barely paid attention to before. After a beat of silence he added, "Not today." Thatch's head shot up, but Izo was already turning to the door, not waiting to see his reaction, a small smile crossing his features. Thatch really was an idiot.


	6. Chapter 6

**Prompted by the wonderful MyLadyDay as usual. Congratulations on your last exam and good luck today ^^**

Sometimes working in the soup kitchen was the most rewarding thing Izo could imagine. Sometimes, when a child lit up because they were finally full, or a man teared up at the first taste of real food in so long, it was the best feeling in the world. Most of the time, though, it was a drag.

People were so often greedy, demanding, or ungrateful, feeling entitled to the assistance others struggled to give them. But Izo kept working at it, because those moments, those few but precious moments, made all the strife and rudeness worthwhile, and he knew well what is was like to be on the other side of the counter, desperate and ashamed. Today, however, had been a particularly bad day, and all he wanted was to go home and forget about this place and everyone in it. Still he worked, dishing out mashed potatoes and vegetable mechanically, interacting with the guests as little as possible.

His attention was caught by the next man in line, a simple thank you reminding him why he was here. Izo looked up at him, smiling gratefully in return to the man's bright smile. The man was well dressed, though Izo knew how little that meant first hand. Anyone could fall on hard times. Just after he'd served the polite red-haired man, Marco ushered in his replacement and grabbing two plates lead Izo to the full tables. They sat down next to the same man after asking permission, which was quickly granted, at the only table not completely full. Izo sighed in contentment as he sat down for the first time in hours. Marco winced sympathetically.

"Hard day?" he asked, unwrapping his silverware and laying it out precisely, concern in his eyes as he watched Izo.

'Not particularly. Just one of those days." Marco nodded knowingly. Izo might volunteer here, but Marco effectively ran the place.

"Thanks for letting us sit here," Marco said to their table partner, "What's your name?"

"I'm Thatch." He grinned brightly at Izo and Marco. "Thanks for the dinner! As far as I'm concerned you're welcome to sit anywhere you want, with all you do."

"I should thank you," Izo said, "You really helped." At Thatch's puzzled look Izo only shrugged before turning to Marco. "How is everything here?" He took a bite and almost spat it back out. That was not how potatoes ought to taste

"We're missing a chef again." Marco sighed, grimacing down at the food. Izo had to agree that it was definitely off. "Ace volunteered, and there was no one else, so..."

"We're going to have to find someone soon." Izo grimaced at the remainder sweet-tasting mashed potatoes on his plate.

"No one decent wants to work in a place like this, though," Marco said, pushing around his mashed potatoes, "Who knows how long we'll have to put up with this." They both shuddered.

"Umm... I don't mean to intrude or anything, but I am a fairly good cook if there is someway I could help out. I put myself through law school cooking," Thatch said proudly, then deflated, " Not that that matters anymore." A loud bang came from the kitchen, followed by a huge billow of smoke. Marco got up immediately, running toward the kitchen, muttering about how he should never have left Ace unsupervised. Thatch looked on in horror as Izo debated whether he was hungry enough to eat the blackened chicken. Ace had taken things a bit far with the blackening. His stomach grumbled, and he looked up at Thatch, who was clearly itching to fix whatever emergency had happened.

"You're hired." Izo pursed his lips. "I don't actually have the authority to do that technically, but it still counts." Thatch turned to face him.

"Should I go-" He gestured towards the general direction of the chaos surrounding the kitchen.

"So, a lawyer, huh?" Izo said thoughtfully. Thatch blushed, his attention torn from the small kitchen fire, shame shadowing his cheerful expression. Izo watched Marco grab the fire extinguisher from the corner of his eye. They'd be fine.

"There was this case, you see, and-" Izo held up a hand, smiling at Thatch's hurried explanation.

"Every single one of us knows what it's like, since every single one of us who works here has been on the other side of the counter. You don't need to explain yourself to me or anyone here."

Thatch blinked, mouth still open, then grinned brilliantly at Izo. His whole face lit up, and Izo found himself giving him a second look.

"Thanks! You won't regret it," he said, still beaming, shaking Izo's hand enthusiastically, forgetting to let go. Izo quirked a brow and watched Marco chase Ace around the kitchen, threateningly waving the spent fire extinguisher before sliding in the white foam that covered the kitchen, falling into Ace, sending both of them sprawling.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine."


	7. Chapter 7

**This is me procrastinating writing my Big Bang story (or rather proving I can do more than stare at a mostly blank page). Anyway, this was prompted by the lovely MyLadyDay as always (I'm sorry it's taking me so unbelievably long to get through them 3), so I hope you enjoy!**

Thatch inhaled slowly, staring at the doorknob he'd just unlocked as easily as if it had been yesterday he'd last picked a lock instead of more than seven years. He let out a soundless laugh, bitterness welling up in him. Of course this skill wouldn't fade with time. He swore he'd never do this again, swore he'd never take the chance of going back _there_, swore that no matter what he would live a free life, but he knew now that there was no freedom out here either.

It was impossible to find work if you weren't born on the right side of the wall, so everyone turned to a life of crime just to survive. Unfortunately no one had anything to steal over there, so anyone who didn't want to starve had to cross the wall and steal on their own or join one of the many brutal gangs that fought over the slums like starving dogs over a hunk of rotting meat. Thatch had seen some of the atrocities done by and to gang members, and he knew he'd rather starve if it came to that.

Sadly, he'd still really prefer not to starve so here he was about to commit a crime that could easily end up with him back in the labor camp or, even worse, the mines. He'd barely managed to survive his seven year sentence - a feet almost unheard of since everyone knew it was just the nobles way of making the trash useful- but he knew if he had to go back to that place he'd not return a second time.

He'd picked his target carefully. It was a massive house, the ornate carvings and marble sure signs that if he succeeded he might not have to target another place for a year or two if he was careful with the money, and the only inhabitants were an old man- some sort of big time politician, or so Thatch had heard- and his one servant. Neither of them looked like they'd be able to put up much of a fight, though if everything went according to plan, he'd not even be seeing either of them.

The door opened soundlessly when Thatch turned the handle- one good thing about rich people; their houses were usually quiet- and he slipped inside without a sound, heading straight for the study, glad he'd had the opportunity to scout the place out earlier, taking the place of the substitute part time chef. Most people had their safe in the study, and Thatch would far prefer to steal actual gold than something he'd have to pawn that could maybe trace him back to the crime.

That is if anyone even noticed anything was missing. The old man was clearly past his prime, and neither of them had even noticed that the paperwork he'd given earlier today was clearly for some other man. The man's butler, Izo, was clearly unconcerned with the security of the house as he'd barely even glanced at the papers before waving him in. Thatch had just turned the corner to the hall where the study lay, when the cool, unmistakable feeling of a gun muzzle pressing into the back of his head forced him to stop. The click of the safety echoed down the empty hall.

"So you were up to no good, hmm? Pops said to give you a chance, but I don't care how well you cook, false papers are always a red flag." Izo's voice was quiet, but it was anything but soft. Thatch knew this tone of voice. Whatever else Izo may or may not be, he was certainly a killer, and an experienced one at that if Thatch had any instincts left.

Thatch inhaled, making it as shaky as possible. "P-pplease, I j-j-just left my-" The gun nudged him none too gently in the back, and Izo snorted delicately.

"Please, save it for someone who cares. You won't pull shit like that with me." Izo sighed dramatically. "Now, I would just kill you, but it would be an awful mess to clean up, and Pops wanted to talk to you if you showed. The study, please. I presume you know where it is?" Thatch was helpfully prodded by the gun in the correct direction and started forward reluctantly.

He couldn't believe it was all over so fast. It might be better for Izo to kill him right here than to go back to that place. The gun lowered, and Thatch turned back in confusion. Izo glared at him but sighed again, this time softening.

"C'mon, then. We don't have all night." Izo pulled him by the hand to the study, the gun held at his side. Thatch blinked confusedly at the dark room, but Izo continued without stopping, walking up to one of the many bookcases and fiddling with something.

The neighboring bookcase slid away to reveal a wide staircase, sparsely light with candles. Izo gestured down the stairs, and Thatch descended without hesitation. His curiosity far outweighed his fear now. He was going to die tonight, of that he was sure, but at least he could find out what was up with this strange household.

The stairs ended in a brightly-lit, windowless room. Maps covered the walls, and almost the entire room was taken up by a massive table, which was almost completely occupied. More than a dozen pairs of eyes turned to them, and the old man sat at the head of the table, the symbol of the resistance boldly printed on the flag the hung behind him. Whitebeard- for surely this had to be the legend himself- smiled at him, and Thatch had never seen a smile so filled with kindness.

"So, son, I heard you might be in need of a job."


End file.
